


When the Devil Drives

by theotherdreams



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Dark!Alistair, F/M, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 06:20:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4655889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theotherdreams/pseuds/theotherdreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair Theirin is full of smiles and laughs. One could almost think there was no darkness in him - and Solana Amell does. But when she rubs his face in her relationship with Zevran, it becomes clear that is all a veneer- and something is about to radically change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Devil Drives

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Dragon Age fic ever, and pretty smutty. Let me know what you guys think.

“Fine, you want to know? We’ve been fucking, Alistair. Zevran and I." Solana Amell took a deep, shuddering breath in and out, looking at Alistair's face - solid, unmoving, like the statues of the Paragons they'd seen in Orzammar. She almost wanted to stop, but couldn't help herself. "Are we more than friends? You knew I wasn't a virgin. Did you not see him coming to my tent every night? Or hear us? Are you that blind, or that impossibly naive? You stand here and hem and haw and want to know if there might be anything with Zevran as though you didn’t know. As though you hadn’t heard. As though you couldn’t possibly imagine.” The Warden clenched her hands at her side, her voice raw, finally giving voice to the feelings that had been bubbling up since she first started sleeping with the Antivan and wondering when the others would say something. 

“Don’t push me, Solana.” Alistair said quietly, his jaw grim. He was fully armored, as usual, ready to protect the camp, in Cailan's mail that had been recovered from Ostagar. Somehow when he wore it he seemed...more. More regal, when dealing with the Banns, certainly. But also something behind the eyes, in the tension of his body, in the things he didn't say. And that feeling was certainly on display tonight. 

“Why not? Why, why, for the love of everything not?” Solana looked up, her eyes full of tears, nervous hands anxiously smoothing over her soft green robes. Templars. Why was it always Templars who teased her just enough to burn? First Cullen, at the tower, and now Alistair. “I wanted you. I put myself out there and offered myself to you, heart and everything, and you didn’t want it.”

“It wasn’t that I didn’t want – “ Alistair broke in, his tone quiet, but like the calm before the storm, as though his words were holding back so much else. 

She started again, her anger still not appeased, “So don’t wonder if I turned to someone else to keep my bed warm, when you were willing to kiss me but had no taste for anything else –“ 

“No taste?” Alistair growled, taking a step forward, the heat of him raising her awareness of his closeness. He slammed one hand up to a tree on one side of Solana’s head. “No taste. Do you think I don’t like women? Perhaps you think somehow despite everything I said I don't like you? Is there anything else you’d care to say, Solana? Any other thoughts you would like to tell me about myself?”

Solana licked her lips nervously, her eyes darting to his arm, muscled and mailed, the tunic beneath clinging to his taut form. “I know you like women. Just – not enough, Alistair. I need to know – I can’t keep taking your roses and kisses and wondering where this will go. Zevran at least doesn’t push – “ There was suddenly a loud clap, louder than thunder, and she was blown backwards, dizzy, everything spinning. A Smite? Why would he possibly have used that? She tried to struggle back to consciousness, but the only thing Warden Amell could focus on was Alistair's other hand, meaty and firm, grabbing her slender wrist and slamming it above her head into the tree. “I think you’re done saying his name for a while, Solana.”

“What…what are you doing, Alistair?” she asked, eyes wide at the sudden violence of the motion. “We don’t have to talk about him if you don’t – “  
All of a sudden, her other hand was above her head as well, and he casually moved the one hand to pin both of hers. “I don’t want.” Alistair hissed, his tone dark, with a hint of malice she had never seen before. “Well, at least not that.” With the hand not holding her hands, he put a strip of balled up cloth to her face, and roughly shoved it in her mouth. “You can keep your mouth shut until I feel like hearing what you have to say." 

Eyes now wide with fear and apprehension, she tried to speak, but found the fabric too thick to get words out, only an inarticulate whine. He dropped his hands to the pack at his side, only to raise them again, a thick, ugly looking rope in his hands. “We are going to have a fucking chat, you and I.” The rough words shocked her even more than the violence, and she whimpered in questioning tones. “Oh yes, you’re wondering how I can talk like this? Be like this? Because I'm kind to you? Good to you? Because I blushed when we talked of love. I’m a bastard, Solana. Did you think I was an innocent all my life? Or just stupid? If I was, how did you think I lived for so long?”

Struggling, she began kicking her feet out at him. This new Alistair scared her – she didn’t recognize him, and she didn’t know what he wanted. But the warrior reflexes served him well, as he only grabbed one of the flailing legs and tied it to another young tree, small, at an angle. Then the other one, leaving her legs wide apart. 

“You think I didn’t notice you were spreading your legs for Zevran, letting him fuck you every night, while I lay in my tent and stroked myself and waited for him to come so it would be over? You think I didn’t know, the things he did to you, the things you let him do to you, while you were laughing at my flowers, my love, the bright path I was still willing to offer you, still thought you were worthy of, despite your proving yourself again and again little more than a slut willing to squander the Maker's Blessing and fuck even an assassin sent to kill you rather than wait for a real romance to blossom?” Alistair was angry now, a cold, hard edge to his voice, and when he drew Oathkeeper from its scabbard and raised it to her throat, Solana knew real fear. "You asked for my kisses, yes. But you asked him to join you in your tent." he said, in a rough, serious voice. She began to scream, words swallowed by the gag, high pitched, hoping someone, anyone, would her her. It would be embarrassing to be found, but better than being dead. How had they not noticed Alistair had the potential for this inside him the entire time? She could barely think. 

“Don’t worry, my dear,” Alistair crooned in an obscenely bitter echo of a lover’s whisper. “Like so much else in this world, my beautiful Warden, it’s not what you think.” He laughed, darkly, and suddenly, the long, sharp sword dipped downward, slashing through her robes, leaving little but skin and tatters behind, making his intentions clear. Her shock was palpable – and her embarrassment, as she twisted first one way and then another. The only effect it had, though, was to slide the flimsy garments off her body, leaving her nude for him, spread-eagled on the tree. 

“Or perhaps it’s exactly what you think, now, at least.” Alistair said as he started unbuckling his brother's armor. “You thought I didn’t want a taste?” His cock sprang out, hard and stiff and thick, Alistair clearly ready for her. Perhaps he had always been ready for her, if she'd ever looked. “Every night I have been driven insane by my need to fuck you, my need to bury myself in you again and again like you were the one bright thing in the world. Like you were the one thing –“ He laughed bitterly, before continuing, “Pure.” With one rough hand, he reached for her breasts, caressing the curves almost disinterestedly, before reaching two fingers out to tweak a nipple. It, too, sprang to life, her body betraying her as her mouth went dry. “Shall I?” he asked, perhaps to himself, as Solana whimpered. “Why yes, Alistair, thank you for the kind invitation,” he said, in a voice mimicking Solana’s, before lowering his mouth to the nipple, suckling it for a gentle moment before biting down with his teeth and tugging. The pain shocked all of her senses alive, but despite herself, Solana could feel herself getting wetter, hoping desperately he didn’t look, didn’t see, how aroused she was, her other nipple hard and aching. “Don’t worry, you are also invited to the ball.” He groaned hoarsely as his tongue flicked out to touch the other nipple before biting it as well, while Solana screamed into the gag. “Yes, that’s right, like that,” he murmured softly, before his eyes hardened again.

“You want me to rape you, don’t you?” Alistair asked, lowering his hands to Solana’s waist and positioning himself at her entrance. “You want me to fuck you without your asking, take your choice away, so you can scream and scream and shudder on my cock again and again as I make you come, while you tell yourself you have nothing to do with it? You telling herself I'm just like that, just a Templar gone mad, doing to you what I heard my brothers tell me about, time after time. The things I wanted to spare you from knowing about." She could feel warmth from him hovering just over her, a sweet madness. Solana was scared of him - or was she? She wanted so much, and he kept continuing. Her cunt twitched at the words, getting slicker with each one, as she thought about it. But she somehow managed to shake her head from side to side. She didn’t want it like this. She had been provoking him, teasing him - loving him. She didn't know what it would bring, but she didn’t want him to hate her. “Oh, really?” he asked in a soft, caressing tone. “Well, let’s see about that.” He reached up and pulled the gag out, tracing his finger over her full lower lip before saying, “Do you have anything to add?”

“Please Alistair, you don’t have to do this like this.” Solana said, pleading. “It has always been you, in my heart. You know I do. I just - when you said you wanted it to mean more, I thought you would never - I was just – “ “Hurt?” Alistair finished. “Didn’t know your own mind? Well, we’re going to fix that. We have a solution.” With that he reached down and began slowly circling her nub with his fingers, as she began to shake. “Please….” She said again, the please the only articulation, no other words coming to mind. “Please Alistair,” she said, as he dipped a finger inside, keeping up the slow rhythm. 

“Please what? Please fuck that tight little cunt until you can’t see straight? Is that what you want?” Alistair purred, moving his mouth up to her ear and sucking on the lobe. “You’d have to tell me, if that was what you wanted. Are you enough of a slut to come to me, straight from Zevran’s bed, and beg for my cock inside you? While I fuck you here, against a tree in the forest? Where anyone could come by and see what purpose I put their hero to?” From his pack, he pulled out three silver chains, attached, with some wicked looking clamps on each end. “You thought I was a virgin and so I didn’t have any hungers, didn’t know what to do.” He growled again, “But I had quite the extensive education from my fellow Templars, watching them.” He placed one clamp on each nipple, then the other, and when he tugged experimentally on it, she began to scream. ”Maker, please, Alistair, don’t do this to me, please,” as she arched her back against the tree and thrust her pelvis forward. “Why thank you,” Alistair said archly. “This is just what I needed. And with the last clamp, he clamped it on her labia, still keeping the swirl going on just over that small hood, everything tingling so much it almost felt like her magic returning, except the world was concentrated in her breasts and groin. 

“Please Alistair” – she finally gasped out. “Yes. Yes. Please, Maker, I need it. I need you inside me.” She couldn't take any more of this, of the teasing. If he hated her tomorrow, at least she would have this. The feel of him, the softness of him, she would explode if he didn't take her. 

“No euphemisms, dear. I gave you a chance for euphemisms, for soft, sweet making love." Alistair's voice was forceful, making her wonder how she could ever have doubted he was strong enough to take the crown. "Now, if you want it, we’re going to fuck. Do you have anything else to say? Or shall I replace that piece of cloth and leave you like this, prey in the woods to anyone else from the camp who happens to come by, like the piece of ass you are? I think Oghren has been drinking..” 

The thought was inconceivable. She would say anything, do anything, but to have him. His voice sensual even as it was cruel, his face above her, the way he moved, everything. Everything about him, she wanted. “Please fuck me, Alistair. Please, please fuck me with your cock.” Solana gasped out, feeling the rising feelings inside her, though even she was not prepared for the way he shuddered at her words and roughly thrust inside her without any additional preparation. But she had been wet for some time, her cunt squeezing him, quaking around him, as with one hand he pushed her back against the rough bark. “You’re mine," Alistair growled. “Mine to fuck. Mine to touch any way I please. Mine to fuck and mine to hold.” He turned his face away for a moment, and muttered something that sounded like, "And Maker, mine to love." With every thrust she felt the bark scratching against her back as she began to scream and scream. “Yes, Alistair, please, please!” She came with a crescendo, trembling and squirting around his cock, breathing as though she had just won a race, and she sagged in her bonds.

His face was alive, the look in his eyes brighter than even when she'd given him his mother's amulet, and that voice dipped low into a teasing tone. “Oh, we’re not done yet.” He whispered in her ear again, and reaching down to her legs, untied first one, and then the other. She was too exhausted to fight him even if she had wanted to, though, and just let her legs hang, twirling slightly in the breeze. And so she was completely unprepared when he spun her around, like a doll on a string, and tied her ankles again – this time, with her facing the tree trunk. “What are you doing, Alistair?” 

“You gave Zevran what should have been mine.” he said, with no mercy in his voice, only a terrible hunger to possess. “But even so, I never want to be my father. I don't want to make any bastards." He reached into her sopping cunt and took some of her own juices, before spreading it methodically at her rear passage. "Don't you, perhaps, have a virginity you were saving for me?" His voice was bitter, but almost wistful, all the same - the hurt in it, the hope in it, making its way to the surface. 

A rustling in the bushes drew Solana’s attention, and she looked around aimlessly, trying to find the source of the noise. “Ah, one of our companions has come to join us.” She could see the bushes move, and the glint of twin daggers. Zevran had gone looking for her, it would seem, when he heard her scream. She had never lied to him - she told him they were just having fun - but he had lately begun to speak more gently to her, be more thoughtful when he came. He must have ben worried about her. Solana sucked in breath, as Alistair started biting down her neck, marking her. “I want to hear you scream again as though he weren't even there.” He said roughly. “I want to hear you scream again that I'm the only one who matters. I want to hear you scream that you want me to take you that way. I want to hear you scream again that you are mine." He paused, his hands on her arms clenched so tightly they were almost beginning to hurt, before whispering low, "Or I swear to the Maker I will never touch you again.”

“Alistair, please, don’t make me do this – “ It wasn't what he would think. She wanted him, had always wanted him. He was the one that mattered. But Zevran - she had been cruel without realizing it, getting involved with him while thinking of another man. She didn't want these to be the last memories burned into his mind. 

Her fellow Warden seemed to take her hesitation, her reluctance, in the worst way. “Oh, I see. Tell the dumb bastard what you think he wants to hear, that you love him, that he is in your heart. And then wait and sneak back to the assassin's tent. I forgot that you thought I was a fool." Alistair's voice was raw with pain, with hurt, broken even as he was breaking her. "That Antivan murderer has never deserved you. But no, my dear. If you say you're ready to burn your bridges for me, I want to make sure they're actually burnt.”

That voice, that break in it, was something she could not abide. She didn't want to hurt Zevran, but she refused to hurt Alistair. “I am yours,” she murmured softly, listening to the silence from him, wanting to fill it. "Not his, yours." Her heart, her loins aching, unfilled, wanting him somewhere, anywhere, everywhere. 

The silence this time was the silence of hope, as one of his strong hands reached around and tugged lightly at that chain, that glorious chain, as she couldn’t help herself from making tiny circles with her hips, trying to grind against something, anything. When it was finally broken, the words were painstakingly specific and full of need. “Shout like your war cry. Shout what you want and what you want me to do and where. Shout whose you are.” 

The hunger was undeniable, but so was his hope, his heart, the sensuality he had clearly been pushing down somewhere. “Please fuck me, Alistair. Not Zevran, you, only you. I am yours, all yours, my body belongs to you. Please fuck me." She took another breath somehow, from somewhere, before continuing, "Please, I never let him fuck me there, touch me there. I want you to be the first. I want you to be the only one. I want you to fuck my ass, it belongs to you."

“As the lady desires,” Alistair growled, his voice suddenly confident, happy, so bright it burned. One finger, wet with her own juices, slipped inside, stretching, as a warm, burning sensation began to make itself known. Then two fingers, and finally three, moving in and out, slowly, beginning to feel good. “But what am I thinking? I should be more considerate.” Alistair suddenly said, a wicked, sensual mockery in his voice, his humor, the humor she loved so much, restored. “Perhaps you were only practicing with Zevran because you were didn't know that I could give you everything. Perhaps you need a little….more.” Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him reach for his sword again, before driving it straight up into the earth. The long sword was tall against her, the hilt of it hitting her mons. A moment of confusion, and then he was lifting her like a ragdoll, lowering her cunt slowly onto the pommel of the sword. She could feel herself stretching around it, feel the fullness of it, and she moaned with need. It was just lodged there, not moving. He rubbed his cock against her cleft, hitting her clitoris, getting it sopping with her juices – before slowly, agonizingly slowly, approaching her rear entrance again, removing his fingers and pressing himself inside her, one strong, hard inch at a time. 

“Fuck! MAKER! Maker, ALISTAIR!” Feeling Alistair’s cock in her ass and the sword hilt in her cunt, she was stretched so thin she felt like she would explode, full beyond any dream she could ever have had. “That’s right.” Alistair murmured in her ear. “You wanted both of us, didn’t you? You wanted to know why you couldn’t have two men, two cocks? Let’s see how you like it.” And he began to thrust with the full force of his Templar strength, and all the enthusiasm of a former virgin. She felt split open, exposed, and all her world contracted to the sensation in her ass and cunt, the throbbing cock ramming itself again and again into her sensitive ass. She began to scream incoherently, pain and pleasure mixed together. As he hit somewhere deep inside her, the shaking of the vibrations made the chain vibrate as well, and she couldn't help herself, beginning to come again and again as though there were no stopping her. Without knowing what she was doing, she turned her face over her shoulder to look at him with sex-slitted eyes, chanting 'yours yours yours yours yours', until Alistair could take it no more and finally tore the chains off, then giving out a shout before spurting his seed into her again and again. Pulling away from her for a moment, he continued to shoot it onto her back, ropes of glistening white semen covering her glorious ass and back, his arms around her side, as though he were never willing to let her go. 

“I love watching you with everything I have to give seeping out of you, dripping off you.” He murmured, most of the rage gone. “Please, Solana," suddenly vulnerable, the vulnerability she now knew was a strength, not a weakness, "I love you. Don’t make me do this again.” He reached up to untie her, swooping her up into his arms and then gently laying her on the forest floor, stroking her up and down as her body thrummed, her magic returned but all over, everything scattered by the force of her orgasms.

Solana took deep gasping breaths, and nodded her head, putting it in the crook of his armpit, against his chest. “Just because I thought I knew what I was doing, what I wanted, doesn't mean that I did. I promise, I'm yours, however you want me. I didn't think - but I needed this." She reached up one hand and curved it against his cheek, adding, "I didn't want you to hate me - that was what I couldn't have. This – what you did to me - it’s what I needed. I'm sorry I put you through that doubt. I love you. I really do.” 

"I know," he said, arms curving around her as though he would never let her go. And then he closed his eyes, and so did she, and they fell asleep, satiated, Templar and Mage, together on the forest floor.


End file.
